My Sacrifice
by ARaZhi
Summary: PreSeries. Michael Scofield is living a near perfect life until his brother landed himself in jail for murder. Lincoln sacrificed a lot for Michael, now is the time to return the favor. How far is Michael willing to go to save Lincoln? New chapter added.
1. Prologue: Brothers

**Author's Note/Spoiler Warning: **This chapter takes place at the end of episode 7 with **spoilers** for upcoming episode 8 and/or 9. Come back and read this later if you don't want to be spoiled :) 

**My Sacrifice  
**by _ARaZhi_

**_Prologue: Brothers_**

_We've seen our share of ups and downs  
Oh how quickly life can turn around  
In an instant  
It feels so good to reunite  
Within yourself and within your mind  
Let's find peace there  
When you are with me, I'm free  
I'm careless, I believe  
Above all the others we'll fly  
This brings tears to my eyes  
My sacrifice  
_ --- Creed, _My Sacrifice_

After what seemed like an eternity of madness, Cell Block A has finally lapsed in silence broken only by the occasional snore or grunt from the sleeping inmates. Behind me, my cellmate, Fernando Sucre is deeply asleep. 

I leaned my head against the wall, finally allowing the waves of guilt to wash over me. 

_No one_ was supposed to die. There wasn't supposed to be a riot. _None_ of these were part of the plan. 

I shut my stinging eyes. Officer Bob's fear, T-Bag's bloodlust, Sucre's jubilation, Lincoln's worry and fear for my safety. The fear, anger, pain, and chaos around me just hours ago were overwhelming. The guilt inside me is almost crippling. 

A traitorous voice inside my head repeated the same question I had answered and rationalized hundreds of times before. 

_Is Lincoln worth all this?_

_Worth all the pain… the sacrifice…_

I knew when I came up with this plan that once its set into motion, there's no going back. I'm in it for the long haul. Everything and everyone I have will either be taken away or will go away. I gave up everything and everyone for my brother. 

Because he did the same thing for me. Because I love him. And because he deserves nothing less. 

Mom died when I was very young. It was a time when I couldn't even fully comprehend death. Back then, I believed Lincoln have the answers and the solution to everything. I thought that Lincoln could bring her back. 

And when he couldn't, I was crushed. 

I felt abandoned. I never knew my father. Then my mom was taken away from me. I promised myself, at a young age, that no matter what I'm not going to lose Lincoln. He could push me away all he wants, but as long as he's fine, as long as he's alive somewhere, I know I can go on. 

I'm not going to let anyone take Lincoln away from me. I won't be _abandoned_ again. 

I'm not going to let my brother die. 

If it means giving up everything I've worked so hard for to achieve, then so be it. 

_Is Lincoln worth all this?_

He is.

I have only one life to give; I'm giving it to my brother. 

Just as he did for me. 

Lincoln hadn't always have been the bad boy that most people remembered. Those who knew him well like Veronica, knows that he was a good student, a good son, and the best brother any boy could ask for. 

Veronica lived just across the street. She's a year younger than Lincoln but at that time they were the only kids at the neighborhood. They've always hung out together. When I came along, I grew to love Veronica like an older sister. 

When mom died, Lincoln had to be strong for my sake. I was depressed for weeks, unable to sleep, and crying for my mom. I'd stare at the tree outside my window, engrossed at the tiniest details. Lincoln did his best to cheer me up. He protected me when the bullies in school picked on me. Helped me with my homework. Helped me cope with things I couldn't understand. 

_Why do I see things differently?_

Little kids could get away with having an active imagination. At first it was like a game. Lincoln would ask me to explain to him things the best way I can and he'd correct me if I'm wrong. Just like a kid with never ending questions of what and why. Except that my brother can't get away with: just because. He patiently explained everything. I guess he was hoping I will grow out of that phase. 

But I didn't. 

I couldn't block out the information streaming to my brain, too much of them. My senses could also pick up on people's emotions more acutely than normal. 

When I was ten and still fixated on the tiniest details, so much so that it was giving me headaches, Veronica suggested that I go to a doctor. 

The meds only held the headaches at bay. But it didn't stop the assault on my senses. 

We decided to go to a psychiatrist. Lincoln was initially against it. He was annoyed that Veronica even suggested it. 

_My brother is not going psycho, V!_

I remembered Lincoln snapping that to Veronica. After much explanation, Lincoln relented. That was how we found out about my low-latent inhibition. 

That explained a great deal of things. Why I look at the things the way I do. Why I could read or sense people's emotions more acutely than others. It explained my creativity and my ability to grasp topics that are advanced for my age. 

The doctor was immensely relieved that my condition did not drive me mad. I remember him saying that those with low IQ are driven insane by the same condition that's turning me into a child prodigy. 

Lincoln was very proud of me. He'd always told me that I was special. Gifted. 

But my gift was a double edged sword. 

Our mother left us a substantial amount of money when she died. Lincoln was doing a good job of running the household on a tight budget. He made sure we have enough for good food and occasionally buys me things that caught my interest. He had set aside enough money so that both of us can go to college. 

My condition changed all that. 

The psychiatric bills were piling up. My brother wanted to send me to a different school, a better one. A _costly_ one. 

Lincoln quit school and got a job. The college money meant for two was now meant only for me. Whatever Lincoln earns goes to household expenses. All the money mom left us was to be used to get me the best education and psychiatrist that money can buy. 

Lincoln gave up his future so I can have a bright one. 

Along the way, he made some rough turns. Fell in with some bad crowd. It worsened when Veronica went off to college. She was Lincoln's crutch. The one he leans on when he couldn't handle it anymore. 

Lincoln did everything to set me right. He made sure I went down the right path. If he has to beat me up to keep me off the streets, he did so. I still have the marks, including the scar on my upper lip. He and Veronica would end up in shouting matches whenever she saw me with bruises. 

It was also during this time that I developed what some of my friends refer to as _rescuer-complex_. Whenever someone was in trouble, I just couldn't stand at the sidelines and leave them at it. I could sense their suffering, I can almost feel their pain. I can't shut it out. The only way for it to stop is if I can somehow help them. And so I did, even though it got me in trouble with my brother because I was unable to get home on time. 

After everything Lincoln and I have been through, I won't just stand by and watch him die. 

I'll save him. Or die trying.

- o 0 o - - o 0 o - - o 0 o -

**Author's Note**: The next chapters will take place during the years of Lincoln's imprisonment up to Michael's inception and completion of his break out plan. I'm not very familiar with low-latent inhibition, what I wrote above is mostly guesswork on what someone with that condition might experience with help from the spoilers I found. I'll put up the next one as soon as I'm done editing. This is my first Prison Break fic. The first fic I've written after a long hiatus. I'm trying to get in the character's head, hopefully I got this one right. Reviews will be greatly appreciated :)


	2. Chapter 1: Family

**Author's Note/Spoiler Warning: **Some **spoilers** for upcoming episode 8 and/or 9. Come back and read this later if you don't want to be spoiled :) This and the previous chapter were written after I've watched season 1: episodes 1 - 7.

**My Sacrifice  
**by _ARaZhi_

**Chapter 1: Family**

_September 2003, three years ago..._

"LJ!" I called my thirteen-year old nephew from the kitchen. "C'mon, buddy, wake up! I have to leave in fifteen minutes!"

"I'm up," LJ grumbled from the guestroom. LJ, Lincoln's son, likes staying over during weekends. Usually, I pick him up from his mother's house every Friday night and drop him off at his school Monday morning. Some of my guy friends think I'm nuts for having my nephew over on weekends. According to them, I'm unlikely to get laid if my nephew is sleeping in the next room. My lady friends think its sweet, then again they are _married_. They say it's nice that I care a lot about LJ.

I have no problem with the arrangement. It's not like I'm aiming to get laid anytime soon, I've got enough in my hands with Lincoln's trial. And besides, I doubt prospective girlfriends will approve of how I spend my weekend -- sprawled on the couch, dressed in my most comfortable albeit nearly threadbare clothes, eating junk food with LJ while watching sci-fi or MacGyver. Last weekend we had Dark Angel and Serenity marathon.

I admit I'm a couch potato. And I _like_ it that way.

The past few months have been crazy. Besides being your average couch potato, I've spent what some call "unhealthy" amount of time reviewing my brother's case. Lincoln is imprisoned for allegedly murdering Terrance Steadman, the Vice President's brother. I know my brother is a lot of things and that includes capacity for violence. I still vividly remember the times he beat me up because I stayed out too late or he caught me hanging out with the bad crowd. But I know, somehow I know, my brother is _not_ a murderer.

However, all of those problems, including the work related ones I don't even want to think about, didn't quite stop me from dropping everything to go to Hawaii.

Today.

I'm a jerk, aren't I?

My brother's in prison and I'm going on _vacation_. I should just cancel this and go back to reviewing the trial transcripts.

Why didn't I study law? If I'm a lawyer this whole thing would be a lot easier. Knowing about Hooke's law isn't going to save my brother from jail. The fact that my brother got arrested for several things back when I was in high school should have been enough clue for me to get a law degree instead.

Lincoln had always looked after me. The least I could do is return the favor by keeping him out of jail. But, hey, I'm just an engineer who apparently doesn't have a good grasp at law. At least that's what those prosecutors say whenever I talk to them. Damn them.

"Good morning," LJ said sleepily as he entered.

"Good morning," I greeted back. "Toast? Cereal? Nothing?" I added the last part teasingly. LJ sometimes doesn't like to eat anything when he gets up too early which works to my favor. I can cook but I'm usually in a rush to do much of that. LJ is hopeless in the kitchen. Left on his own, he might burn his food.

LJ gave me a mock glare, "I'm a growing boy, Uncle Mike. I need to eat as my mother keep on reminding both of us--"

"Hey, I'm not that thin."

LJ poured cereal into a bowl. "But you're thin enough for my mother and Veronica to keep on hinting that you need to eat more, preferably not junk food or take out--"

"That's the part where they also tell me to date, get married, and make sure my wife feeds me well?" I asked, trying to keep a straight face.

LJ grinned, "Yeah. Then I can have little cousins running around."

I ruffled his messed up hair as I pour milk over his generous amount of cereal, "Not going to happen anytime soon, kid. I don't want to rush you, but if we don't leave soon, I'm going to miss my flight."

"I can stay here on my own you know," LJ said, looking up at me hopefully. "I promise not to blow up anything. I won't bring friends over. I won't even touch your computer if you don't want me to."

I suppressed a sigh. Nearly every week LJ brings up this topic about staying over longer… or permanently. Don't get me wrong, I like LJ. I treat him like the little brother I never had instead of a nephew. However, since Lincoln is almost a non-entity in LJ's life, for him, I'm more of a father figure than his real father. But I don't think its right to make the arrangement permanent because his mother has the means to provide for him and the right to do so. LJ mentioned numerous times that his step-father doesn't like him. I don't like the guy, either, but I don't tell LJ that. As long as Lisa's husband isn't mistreating LJ, I see no reason why he shouldn't stay with his mother.

"LJ, we've been through this before--"

LJ pushed his unfinished breakfast away. "I get it. I can't stay. I'll go pack."

"LJ--"

"Uncle Mike, it's okay. Believe me when I say I understand," he forced a smile for my benefit. LJ's a bright kid. I know he understands. But that doesn't mean he likes it. I don't like it either. Sometimes I wish Lisa will just move to a faraway place and maybe I'll have a shot at talking her out of taking LJ to live with her.

"Thanks, LJ. And… I'm sorry about this…"

"Don't be. I'm the one imposing on you by staying here," he cracked a genuine smile, " and scaring your would-be girlfriends away."

I smiled back, "You're my family, one of the only two left. If a woman really likes me, she's going to have to accept you or else it's not going to work out."

LJ smiled, he looked a bit teary. I know what's it like, growing up without a father, losing a mother when I was young. LJ is almost the same way. Lincoln wouldn't have him and his mother, though she never said it, made him feel like he messed up her life somehow. Different cases but the same result: we're both alone, abandoned. But spending weekends together somewhat lessens that.

"Listen, if you want me to stay, I will. I know the past few months have been tough."

"No," LJ said, his voice rough as he try to rein in his emotions. "It's been tough on you too. Harder than it is for me because you're closer to him. You deserve a break."

Sometimes I wonder how he can easily call me "uncle" when he can't even call Lincoln "father".

"You're sure?"

"Yeah. I'll just go get my stuff."

_You deserve a break_.

The same thing that Lincoln told me when I accidentally slipped about the Hawaii trip I was planning to cancel. Perhaps father and son are a lot more alike than they thought they were. They certainly were doing everything they can to look after me, even though they should be looking after themselves.

Here I go again with the self-worth stuff. What will Dr. Brighton say if he can hear me now…

- o 0 o - - o 0 o - - o 0 o -

I used to be terrified of flying.

That's the problem with having low-latent inhibition. Sure it made me a creative genius but it also made looking at things and people difficult. My brain can't help but process _ everything_. In some ways, it's like having x-ray vision, except that I can't really see what's beneath the metal but somehow I know what's under there. Although, I'm not always right, I'm _usually_ right.

When I first saw a plane up close, my mind focused on the bolts, screws, metal, paint, wires. All those things holding the whole thing together… what if they all fall apart in mid-flight? Okay… so maybe my imagination at that time was a bit overactive, but I can't help it. Just thinking about those people in the plane dying as it fell down is enough to give me a headache and a queasy stomach.

But Lincoln was there. He said it was going to be alright. I've always believed whatever my brother said, especially when I was younger. If Lincoln said it's going to be fine, then it _ will_ be fine. When the plane hit turbulence and rattled like its going to break apart, I just gripped my brother's hand, shut my eyes, and reminded myself that Lincoln said it will be fine. He would never have brought me with him if it won't be. He wouldn't let anything or anyone harm me.

Here I am, fifteen years later, no longer terrified of flying. At least now I've come to grips with my _ condition_ and can filter out unnecessary information. Or at least _try_ to.

That's why I chose to become a structural engineer. It helps me understand how things are built. I like it and at the same time it agrees with my condition. Might as well make the best out of it, right?

I hope that on my next vacation I can take Lincoln and LJ with me. We can go to Baja and get drunk, Lincoln and me, I mean. Maybe we can start teaching LJ how to hold his liquor.

Or _not_.

I'd like to spare LJ from the glare of death Lincoln gave me, followed by a sharp slap at the back of my head, when he caught me drinking. I was sixteen. And I only took a _sip_.

But that won't happen anytime soon. A couple of weeks ago, the jury reached a decision. They found Lincoln guilty. The judge, with a vindictive gleam in his eye, gave the verdict, reducing my brother to tears that he tried but failed to hide. That was the first time I saw Lincoln cry.

_Lincoln Burrows is found guilty for the murder of Terrence Steadman. Execution to be carried out…_

I visited Lincoln the day after. He'd been transferred to Fox River.

I've been to Fox River before when my firm was refurbishing the place, making it more habitable for the modern criminal. If I had known they were throwing my brother into that hell-hole, I would have pushed harder for better AC units.

The place didn't intimidate me so much before. It was just a building made of old steel and concrete with unfortunate men forced to live inside its halls. Dangerous criminals who deserved what they got.

Now, the place seems to resonate a more humane tune. It brought more gloom and doom than it did before. I wasn't just looking at it from an engineer standpoint. I can no longer view it like a doctor would a look at a broken leg and give a clinical opinion.

My brother is trapped in a prison I _helped_ design. How damn ironic is _that_?

Trapped with the same monsters we made sure will be kept _in_.

It made me realize that the men I once viewed as nothing less than monsters were _men_ once, before they committed their crimes. Some of them might just be like my brother. _Innocent_. Or so my brother claims.

And I believe him. Even if no else does.

As the plane touched down, I couldn't help but release an audible sigh of relief. The middle-aged woman beside me visibly relaxed.

Here I am in Hawaii, ready for much needed relaxation. No distractions. No trial. No work. No friends trying to set me up on blind dates. Just me and the beach.

Minutes later, I finally found my way out of the airport. At the sight of an incoming taxi, I took off, zigzagging through the throng of tourist. I just want to get to the hotel and crash. I haven't had much sleep lately. Sometimes I wake up in the middle of night, having nightmares of the trial.

In the stillness of the night, the sound of a gavel echoes in my head. The look of fear and defeat on Lincoln's face is engraved in my memory.

My hand closed over the taxi's door handle and gave it a yank. Unfortunately for me and my sleep deprived brain, it wasn't only my hand that pulled the door open. I turned right and found myself looking at a pair of dark brown eyes. The eyes narrowed and the young woman gave me a forced smile. "Er… you take this, I'll get the next one," she told me, pulling her hand away from my touch.

I blinked. That doesn't go well with my codes of chivalry. "No, you can have it, I'll get the next one," I told her, trying to bite back a yawn.

"Right and I'll just go while you pass out here from exhaustion?"

"I thought I was hiding that well," I replied, chagrined.

"Are you riding or not?" the driver demanded, annoyed.

"He is," the woman replied and before I can protest she shoved me inside the cab. Quite a strong shove for a woman. She pushed my baggage after me, successfully blocking me from stepping out of the cab so _she _can have it.

"Bye," she smiled, "try not to pass out." She slammed the door shut.

Strange girl. Pretty but strange. I mentally shook her off my mind; I didn't come here for women. Relaxation and women doesn't mix, at least that was the trend lately.

I gave the driver the name of the hotel I'm staying. I closed my eyes and against all rational thinking, the sight of those deep brown eyes stayed with me until I fell asleep.

- o 0 o - - o 0 o - - o 0 o -

**Author's Note**: In case anyone is wondering about the date, it was mentioned that Lincoln's case was fast tracked, three years while others take 10. The calendar on the warden's desk shows April 11, Tuesday -- the closest April 11, Tuesday is in 2006. For my timeline, I assumed that Lincoln was imprisoned sometime in 2003 and Steadman was killed in the first quarter of 2003. By August 2003, Lincoln was found guilty and his defense attorneys are preparing for their first appeal by September.

Thanks to Storywriter, Caerulea, ChaiGrl, and simileum for the reviews :) If anyone's interested to beta read, please send me an email (see my profile for my email address). Thanks:) Six more days until the new PB episode... this withdrawal is killing me but writing helps ;) expect the next chapter this week or next.


End file.
